Not a Boring Place
by TheShadowArchitect
Summary: In the rain and the dark on an quiet dirt road, the Doctor contemplates life and his role in the Universe.
1. Not a Boring Place

I really don't know where this came from. I never write like this.

I don't own Doctor Who

This probably takes place about a month after The Waters of Mars, but still long before The End of Time Part 1

Enjoy!

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><p>It is a cliché-ly known fact that in space nobody can hear you scream. Nine times out of ten at least this was true, as far as the Doctor could see it. If he really wanted to, he could make himself heard. Vacuum or not Space didn't stand a chance.<p>

Space was nothing.

Space was easy.

He'd fought Space before and won.

But out there in the rain, as it poured into the dark of night, he defied anyone to see him cry. Now, tonight, he didn't want anyone to.

Crying didn't have to be about pain.

Crying was cleansing, something nobody he'd ever travelled with seemed to understand.

When people cry, humans especially, others think something might be wrong. When he cries, people look for the unstoppable asteroid heading for earth. The 'some terrible thing' he's given up on trying to stop and now is waiting for the world to end with miserable reverence. Because for some reason, humans take crying the wrong way. Humans don't understand.

Then again neither did Time Lords; nine times out of ten.

It was just by chance he'd ended up here tonight, on this rural road to nowhere on some planet he didn't know. The rain pounded down on the dirt road and mud splashed up in reddish brilliance, reflecting the warmth of the summer moon in every drop of glorious life. Wherever he was it was late in the dry season, the smell of long desiccated earth quenched by rain.

Oh, it was marvelous. And he'd started to cry. There was no one to see him, out there alone in the dark, in the rain; crying and cleansing and being and _living._ Soaked to the skin and feeling every moment of wonderful, beautiful, powerful life. People didn't do this often enough.

He felt everything, the good, the bad, the terrible and the awesome. Exhilaration and pain, love and sorrow coursed through his mind and hearts and filled whatever planet this was. His life had been intense and amazing, heart-wrenching and terrifying. That first moment when he knew he'd lost and the first moment he knew he'd won. He washed it away into the darkness, at peace with the feelings and ready to let them go. They were _his_ feelings and _his_ life. He wouldn't rewrite a line of them, not a word. Not even the bad things.

When he'd been destroyed over losing Rose.

Martha.

Donna.

Himself.

When he'd been ready to kill and ready to die.

When he _had_ died. When he'd been reborn in a new body, watching the old one walk away like nothing had happened

He remembered it all, and it pained him more than anything to know he had needed to keep it hidden for so long. Deep inside so it wouldn't destroy him. Destroy them. Destroy the world or the Universe. Because they were that strong. Himself that powerful.

Here in the rain it ran through him like ice and burned like the hottest star. It saved him. But the Good thoughts. The winning. Those thoughts twisted their way in, raw and untendered in the night. When he made it in time to save the day.

The days when nobody died.

The days when the weather was fair and everybody lived.

He needed more days like that.

Days when he won in the right and when there was nothing to do but hug the person next to him and cry out in joy and love. Days when there was peace in the universe. Not that the Universe was ever a peaceful place, and not that he ever wanted it to be.

As much as he hated to admit it, peace was boring.

And the Universe was not a boring place.

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><p>Thanks for reading!<p> 


	2. Reason Enough

I did that little one shot for Ten, but after The Wedding of River Song I felt like Eleven probably needed some time to get his thoughts together too. This one's a little darker, but I hope you still like it.

Reason Enough:

It was raining again and this time the rain was quite a bit harder than before. It slashed down cold and heavy on his shoulders and hair, soaking into him and dripping away. Sodden in the darkness and the coolness of the fall evening. Ages had passed since he'd last visited the planet but the TARDIS had decided that it was time to return. To stand in the darkness and let it all fall away.

There was a bonfire where she'd brought him, left abandoned by some creature when the storm had started. It was off in the middle of a field about a quarter kilometer from the reddish dirt road, and as he looked at it he felt a strange sense of connection. It was fighting against the rain, burning hot and bright, drying the raindrops as they fell into its flames. It was buffeted and thrown by the wind, straining not just to remain alive but also to help warm the cool evening and light the deep darkness.

He could see why this was where she brought him when he needed to calm himself, needed to reconcile the fear and pain within into some sense that what he was doing was right. There was no more powerful image in the Universe than a fire struggling with a storm.

All this gallivanting around the Universe and he was changing it. Sometimes saving it. It was something he'd always done: person by person, place by place. Little people, little changes; little meanings, tiny sparks in the darkness and vastness of space.

Nearly meaningless.

Mostly harmless.

But now it was changing. The things he'd done recently to save people and earth and the Universe were in no way little. The changes he'd made were gigantic, massive transformations of the very fabric of reality.

He hadn't just saved Amelia's life; he'd rebooted all of creation.

He hadn't just _cheated_ death inside the Tessilecta; he'd flouted the fundamental _necessity_ of that death.

He hadn't just messed up Amy and Rory's lives; he'd made them important.

That was the problem and it scared him.

Importance destroyed people. People like him. He could see that now, that was why this place was sacred. It weighed down on him like his rain-soaked tweed jacket and began to wear at him inside. It made him face himself for who he was.

To be honest he didn't really like what he was seeing.

The fixed points he'd once held so dear were losing their meaning, slipping away from him. He noted they were there and walked right on past them. He felt he could do anything, go anywhere, change anything he wanted and the consequences would be his alone to face.

What was he capable of? What could he do if left unchecked?

He was no longer simply nudging the Universe. He was breaking it and resetting it in ways that no one, not even a Time Lord with hundreds of years' experience, should be allowed to do.

But there was no one to stop him.

That was _his_ problem.

He needed someone to tell him no. Someone who wouldn't trust him so implicitly; he needed someone who would question him and plead with him and who would be willing to knock him out and tie him up in a cupboard if necessary.

At the same time he couldn't tell if he was ready to make Rory and Amy into that. And their daughter, maybe the only person in existence who could understand what it meant to feel all of time and space rushing though him every waking moment; she was something else entirely. River might understand his motives, may have had to live with them herself, but she would never be able to be that person either.

He stared for a moment at the flames, letting them burn impressions into his retinas. They danced wildly, and though they were still filled with power and fight, the dance seemed somehow more desperate than before.

He realized with a shock what was happening to them. The storm was winning. Just slightly, ever so slightly, the cold and rain and wind were beating out the flames.

Never in his life had he ever wanted to look back. There were monsters and horrors lurking in the depths of his memory, bits of him that would rip his mind soul apart if he tried to look into them beyond just a passing glance. Now he wished for the days when things were solved with ice cream and encouragement and laughter. He was still a child, not just in his mind but physically as well. For a Time Lord nine hundred was just little more than the point of a ten year old human. He was blowing through his remaining regenerations like they were nothing.

But beyond all this, he was determined not to let the storm win. It might be dark out there, it might be cold and the rain might pour down to the ground and whip into his skin like ice. The Universe might be huge and vast and complicated, and it might hurt simply to lie and say it was all ok. But there was also ice cream and friends and fish custard and happy endings. There was hope and love and life and tears of joy in the Universe. There were companions who made up enormous parts of his life and helped him up when he fell and who comforted and guided him into doing the right thing. People who loved him and people who would come from the corners of reality to save him if he needed it. He had several more lives to live, and he was going to make them worth it.

He supposed that was reason enough to keep on saving the day.

Thanks for reading!


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